


I Still Was A Madman

by inks0up (krikkit_war_robot)



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Gen, joey done messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkit_war_robot/pseuds/inks0up
Summary: Joey reflects on his past mistakes. 30 years gives a man a lot of time to think.





	I Still Was A Madman

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas. I took the title straight from the song lyrics. Now enjoy having your heart broken.

Carry on.

That was all Joey could do now: just carry on. He didn't know what to do or where to go anymore, but he'd gotten himself into this mess, and it was up to him to keep on going somehow until he alone found his way out of this.

He'd find peace in his life someday, or at least he hoped. That was all he wanted now. Just peace and freedom. Not fame, not fortune, not even the powers granted by demonic magic.

He'd had all those things. He'd worked his way up from the bottom, from rags to riches. He'd had everything he thought he wanted.

And yet it had all come crashing down in the end, leaving him far worse off than he'd been in the start.

This wasn't what he'd wanted when he began this. He'd always had big dreams, yes, but he'd founded his studio with Henry more out of a passion for animation than anything else. He had to admit the prospect of becoming a household name and earning good money had influenced him, but he had originally seen that more as a perk of running his own animation studio. It hadn't been his main reason for opening it, certainly not.

When had he lost sight of that? Why could he never be content with what he had? Why did he have to strive for more and more until he'd lost it all?

He really had lost everything. He'd lost his success, his studio, his soul, and he'd even lost Henry.

Oh, how he regretted losing him. He hadn't ever realized until it was too late that it was Henry who mattered to him more than anything else in the world.

He hated himself for losing him, all in his shortsighted pursuit of the illusion that had consumed him. Not the illusion of fame or success, but the illusion that he could achieve the impossible.

He'd believed he could bring his cartoons to life. Funny what you believe you can do once you've made a deal with the devil and had a taste of that power, isn't it?

That was the mistake that had been his undoing. He was at the height of his success then, and it had seemed like the perfect step further. After all, no other animation studio in existence had actual, real-life cartoon characters.

He'd felt as if he was on top of the world, as if he could achieve anything he wanted and nothing in the world could stop him, but, as it turned out, he’d gone one step too far when he’d made that decision. Like Icarus with his wings, he'd flown too high and fallen to the lowest depths.

He had innocent blood on his hands now. He'd already given up his soul, and it hadn't been enough. He'd gone too far in his pursuit of the impossible and made a mistake that had cost him everything. It was a mistake even Henry would surely never forgive him for, if he ever found out.

Not that Henry knew, of course. He was probably off living somewhere in blissful ignorance of what Joey's life had become. He'd quit the day before the disaster happened. He'd told Joey that he was going too far this time - and this was before any mention of sacrifices - and told him not to speak to him again until he'd repented from this dark magic.

Joey had called him on his bluff. Henry had threatened to quit enough times before that Joey was sure he'd never actually do it.

Henry had not been bluffing. Joey never saw him again.

In fact, after the next day, Joey never saw anyone again. No one who was fully human, at least. His attempt to bring his characters to life had gone horribly wrong and left him trapped for life in the studio with the monsters he'd created by mistake.

What had driven him to think any of this was a good idea? Selling his soul and throwing out all morality and rationality, blind to the inevitable consequences - where was the reason in that?

He'd gone mad, hadn't he?

He should have listened to Henry. Why didn't he? Henry had warned him countless times that the road he was going down would only lead to ruin, and now Joey had learned the hard way that he'd been right.

Why hadn't he listened?

How he wished Henry was here now. Henry had a good head on his shoulders. He had the common sense and sanity that Joey lacked. Joey rarely followed any of Henry's advice, but Henry did usually turn out to be right in the end, and Joey had dug himself into a hole so deep this time that he'd gladly take any help Henry had to offer.

No matter how much he needed him, though, Joey had to manage on his own. Henry wasn't coming back.

Or was he?

A sudden idea presented Joey with a glimmer of hope which pulled him out of his somber reflections: What if he could convince Henry to return? He was a changed man now. If Henry could see that, then maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to help him.

It took some searching to find paper that wasn't already used, soaked in ink, or both, but Joey eventually found some blank scrap paper and sat down at his old desk to pen a letter to his former friend.

_“Dear Henry,”_ he wrote. Then he stopped. He had once chance to get this right; he couldn't blow it. He had to convince Henry he had changed and give him reason to actually come back and help.

Perhaps it was best not to mention his current situation and the state of the studio. Henry had warned him again and again in the past. Disclosing the truth would only give him reason to say 'I told you so', and there was no chance he would willingly come somewhere that had become so dangerous to save someone who didn't deserve it.

_“I know we parted on bad terms,”_ he wrote, _“but that was 30 years ago. I've changed my ways since then. You can forgive me for the mistakes I made when I was young and foolish, can't you?”_

That took care of the necessary apology. Now he had to give Henry a reason to return to the studio specifically.

_“Remember the old days when we made cartoons together? It seems like it was a lifetime ago that the old studio closed down, but I've been thinking lately about starting it up again. I'm writing to ask if you're interested in working together again. We made a great team once upon a time, didn't we?”_

He suddenly threw down the pen, crumpled the paper up into a ball, and threw it across the room in frustration, where it landed in a puddle of ink. He couldn't write that. He couldn't lie like that. Even if Henry was interested in working with him again - which he probably wouldn't be, after past experience - how would he react when he found out Joey had lied to him?

He started writing a new letter on a fresh sheet. No masquerading this time, no lies, just brutal honesty. He poured his heart out this time, letting his regret flow freely onto the pages. He didn't hold back. He confessed to it all: to just how deep into the occult he'd once gotten, to selling his soul to the devil, even to the murders. He didn't sugarcoat any of it or omit truths like he sometimes used to.

He wrote honestly about the ruin the studio had fallen into, giving full disclosure about the dangers lurking within. Honesty mattered above all else here. Maybe his warnings would keep Henry away, but he had to take that risk and hope Henry would find it in the goodness of his heart to forgive him and help him.

He told Henry he needed him now more than ever. In all honesty, he couldn't deny it.

He told Henry he still loved him.

Then he threw it all away. It was pathetic. That letter sounded as pathetic as he felt. He couldn't send that.

He gave up, dropping his head on the desk in defeat. Henry wasn't coming back. There was nothing Joey could do to change that. Pleading for his help and forgiveness was a futile endeavor, and, even if he could reach out to him, he couldn't do so in good conscience. He couldn't drag him into this hell he'd created. He alone had gotten himself into this mess, and he alone had to deal with the consequences.

He didn't deserve help. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He didn't deserve salvation.

He didn't deserve Henry.

He deserved to be right where he was, a sobbing mess, forsaken and alone in the ruins of the place which had once represented his success.

There was no hope for him anymore. He’d been foolish to think there was.

After another endless moment of despair, he changed his mind again. He had one sheet of paper left, and he was going to write to Henry. Right or wrong, he had to. Henry was his only hope.

_“Dear Henry,”_ he wrote again, the same way he’d begun the last two.

_“It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away, doesn’t it?_

_“If you’re back in town, come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you.”_

That was much better. Many truths were omitted, yes, but this letter didn’t contain any deliberate lies like the first, and writing as if they were still friends seemed like a better approach than immediately broaching the tough subject of his past mistakes. Now he just needed the right way to end it.

_“Your best pal, Joey Drew”_

Perfect.

“Forgive me,” he whispered silently as he got up to search for an envelope to send his letter in. “Please... I need you.”


End file.
